


Endurance

by codenamecynic



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Deepthroating, Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Sex Magic, Sex Toys, Sexual Content, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 20:09:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1700960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codenamecynic/pseuds/codenamecynic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Her hips shifted, thighs rubbing together tellingly as her back arched, pulling the rope across her skin.  “Anders,” she whimpered, head thrown back, and he felt himself throb almost painfully beneath the constriction of his trousers in response to his name.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>  <i>His hand came down with a smack against her rear, prompting a muffled squeal.  “Did I say that you could speak?” he growled, the words coming out low and raw.  “Get on your knees.”</i></p><p> </p><p>Rope  bondage and magical sex toys du jour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endurance

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously this is a work of fiction and fantasy, which means that for the sake of prose/plot/flow/whatever some limits of safety have been ignored.

Of all the women he has ever seen naked, Hawke was the loveliest – and the most insecure.  Anders found it curious that little of the woman’s gregarious and careless personality while clothed made itself apparent when she was naked, all that glorious white Fereldan skin and dark hair.  No longer hidden by the garments of their employ, the leather and the armor and the dirt that seem so much a part of her being, she seemed less herself, almost as someone else.

That wasn’t strictly true, of course.  Hawke was Hawke, and so, irrepressible.  It had been Anders great pleasure to draw her out, to help her to put aside the reserve and inhibition that sat so poorly with her character.

A very great pleasure, if he was honest.  Almost too great.  If he had ever deluded himself about personal attachments and his ability to _not_ form them – well.  The heat suffusing his skin, causing sweat to sheen on his arms and bare chest, had nothing to do with the temperature of the room and everything to do with the woman who knelt on the rug before the hearth, gloriously naked, a strip of red cloth bound across her eyes.

But now was not the time.

Trust was a fragile thing, and they had come far to achieve it.  That it did not necessarily translate outside of this room was troubling, but a device of his own making; it would be unjust to punish her for it. Ironically.

The plush upholstery of the chair he sat in didn’t so much as creak as he got up, pacing across the large room toward her.  His bare feet on the carpet made no sound either as he circled her kneeling form, though she started and lifted her head when he crossed in front of her, his shadow before the fire revealing that once again her eyes were open beneath the blindfold.

That was a particular longing of his, to mask her eyes so thoroughly she would be helpless, utterly dependent on other senses while they played their games. The light blindfold they used was a testament to her limits and anxieties and not a sign of her unwillingness to cede him control.  Just because this was the one area in his life where he felt he had any sort of control at all-

 _Stop._ These bitter thoughts would sour him if allowed to carry further.  They did allow him to steel himself however, to put some cool distance between his intentions and the outpouring of emotions that threatened to consume him entirely as he looked into her upturned face, seeking him among the shadows like a flower seeks the sun.

He had left her alone for some time – not so long that she would become bored and anxious, but enough that her posture had relaxed by degrees, tension leaving her shoulders and spine.  Her hands rested on her knees in a pose that spoke more to comfort than to efforts to hide the lush curve of her breast or curve of clean-shaven skin between her thighs.  The blindfold was a part of that, allowing her to revel in sensuality without being forced to confront her own brazen nakedness.

And that wasn’t even considering how much _he_ enjoyed it.  He was already swollen to bursting beneath his breeches, and he hadn’t so much as touched her yet.

Anders knelt down before her, a small kiss pressed to the corner of her mouth when she canted her head.  “Are you ready to begin?”

The red rope looked incredible against her ivory skin. Ironically Fenris, the daft elf, had been the one to point it out in a drunken moment of _who cares._ Not that the elf had anything to do with what he and Hawke did in private – other than to uniformly disapprove; an appreciably ironic thing for someone so fond of Isabela’s instant man device, or so the pirate let slip.

He helped Hawke to her feet and then bound her arms folded behind her, each hand grasping the opposite elbow.  She shifted slightly in surprise under his touch as she recognized the position; it was one she could hold comfortably for a great deal of time, somewhat different than their games of late that had trended on the edge of brutality as the world around them threatened to explode with so many different kinds of madness.  Hawke embraced hurt, seemed to thrive on the challenge of discomfort, though as much as seeing the strength of her warrior’s body strain and writhe in the punishing positions he could bend her into, it went against the healer’s nature in him to cause real suffering.  Tonight she would learn an important lesson – that pleasure was as masterful a torment as pain.

Her momentary rigidity gone, she relaxed, the rise and fall of her chest measured with each breath as he wound more rope around her, securing her arms to her torso and putting pressure above and below her breasts.  High and firm and almost unbelievably white and sensitive, her breasts proved a distraction.  Constantly.  It took much of his self-control to finish the tie without allowing himself to touch them, connecting the rope framing their pink-nippled glory with loops of more rope between them and beneath each arm to tighten its embrace and leave her feeling well squeezed, the pressure of the bindings changing the roundness of her bosom.  When he finally filled his hands with her, her nipples were hard peaks that pressed into his palms.  Still, he kept the touch perfunctory, checking carefully the perimeter of the bonds he had created, assuring that they would not compress her unduly, that nowhere did they pinch her tender white skin.

Satisfied, his hands left her as he circled her once more, appreciating his handiwork and the lithe body beneath it.  The pose arched her back, pushing her bound breasts and the tight curve of her ass outward enticingly, and as he ordered her to spread her legs it was all he could do to hold to his plan, to overcome the rush of desire that drove every spare drop of blood to his throbbing cock and bade him fuck her there were she stood.  This next part, then, was a torment for him, too.  And a deterrent, for the rope that he looped around her waist and drew between her parted legs would limit his access to that delicious cunt appreciably. 

She was already wet and swollen, the pale of her inner thighs glistening in the firelight with the moisture spread to them as she’d knelt.  He wanted very much to plunge his fingers inside her, to seek out that tender knot of nerves at the top of her cleft, to slide his thumb into the tightness of her ass, and it made him pull the dangling ropes across her skin harder than perhaps was necessary, making her gasp and buck as the doubled strands slid between the lips of her cunt and settled between twin globes of her ass.

He tied the rope off to her arms rather than to the loop around her waist, stepping back to watch her test the thoroughness of her restraint, to appreciate the smooth knot he’d placed where the rope passed above her clit and its twin that settled between her cheeks, abrading the puckered rosebud of her ass.

Her hips shifted, thighs rubbing together tellingly as her back arched, pulling the rope across her skin.  “Anders,” she whimpered, head thrown back, and he felt himself throb almost painfully beneath the constriction of his trousers in response to his name.

His hand came down with a smack against her rear, prompting a muffled squeal.  “Did I say that you could speak?” he growled, the words coming out low and raw.  “Get on your knees.”

Kneeling must have been an agony unto itself; she did so haltingly, stomach flexing, body bending to try and find a way to keep the ropes from pulling and cutting into her tender flesh.  An impossible conundrum – every time her shoulders so much as shrugged, the knots moved, slick and stimulating and utterly without mercy.

What came next would not be a surprise. 

Seeing her helpless, pleasured and pained at once pushed him past the point of safety where he could truly trust himself not to deviate from his carefully laid plans, and demanded some sort of relief.  Still, he would wait as long as he could – the delay was pleasure for him as well.  He had not so much as touched himself once, nor would he until he had the length of his cock in Hawke’s hot, wet mouth.  First, though, the sweet sharp pain she so relished. 

His hands moved to her breasts, skimming along the red ropes atop her skin to travel there, touching her flesh only to close his fingers hard around each nipple. She gave a little pained cry, and then another as the jerk of her body ground the knotted rope more deeply between her legs, and he held fast until she settled, breath coming almost like a sob.  Only then did he release her, the callused pads of his thumbs caressing the beaded flesh, soothing away the harshness of his previous touch.  From then it was a torment of a different kind, manipulating each pebbled bud until she was squirming with pleasure, hips thrusting forward against nothing.

The shriek she gave echoed in all corners of the room when the cold metal teeth of the clamp closed around her nipple, compressing it and tugging it downward with the light heft of the pendulous weight he attached to the bottom.  She struggled, hips pumping in earnest as the pleasure of the sharp pain washed over her, writhing in search of a place of comfort, seeking to allay the pitiless tug of the weight and the pressure of the rope between her legs.  Feeling merciless, he looped his fingers into the rope at the flat of her stomach, working it back and forth and forcing the grating knots over the top of her hidden pearl until she strangled a scream.

“Anders,” she gasped, breaking the silence he had ordered.

“Yes, my darling?”

“I want to…  I need something inside me. If it please you,” she remembered to add, barely, the confines of their assumed roles unraveling in the nearness of her orgasm.

“I suppose it would only be fair to allow you the opportunity to _please_ me, then.  Don’t you think?” His fingers abandoned the rope to brush lightly across her cheek, feeling the hum in her body through the faint touch alone.

“Maker, yes, please.  Anything.  Anything you want.”

Anything. Anything was a tease, a dare.  Anything was also a lie in the not-so-strictest sense of the word, for as much as the darkest parts of Anders would dearly love to take advantage of the desperately whispered promise, there were some things that Hawke would not – and should not – do.  And he respected that.

All the same it fired his temper, and he enjoyed perhaps too much her little scream as the second clamp, twin to the first, sank its ravaging teeth into her nipple.  He stood over her, watching her body shake and strain for a long moment before he fisted a hand in her hair and yanked her head back.

The laces of his breeches all but dissolved under his fingers, strained as they were by the press of the bulge beneath them, and he could not suppress the growling sigh of relief that escaped him as his rigid cock pulled free of its entrapment.

Her mouth had fallen open under the brutality of his grip, and he rubbed the throbbing head of his cock against her, tracing the soft pink outline of her lips until her tongue darted out to taste him, dragging against overheated skin.  He thrust inside her deeply then, without preamble, angling himself for the back of her throat and holding her against him tightly by his grip on her hair when her body inevitably spasmed, her throat reflexively rebelling against the invasion.  Her breasts bounced with the sudden movement of her shoulders, and he watched with interest as the weights on the clamps swung, ricocheting off the flat plane of her upper stomach.

He held her as long as he dared, and then released her, allowing her to gasp a quick breath before he did it again.  Over and over he thrust and held, feeling her throat spasm around the head of his cock, watching the silver weights swing against her fire-lit skin.  Eventually she adjusted, relaxing and finding a rhythm until she was meeting his thrusts, swallowing around his cock as her nose pressed his abdomen and sending electric shivers from the tips of his toes up to the base of his spine.  Hawke had a talented mouth, becoming even more skilled in their time together, and though this release for him was a practical and perfunctory part of continuing their evening together, he could not help the hissing sound of pleasure that escaped his lips whenever she took him deep, nor the low hum of approval in the back of his throat when he gave into the need to thrust wildly, using his hand in her hair to hold her head immobile as he mercilessly fucked her mouth.

“I expect you to come for me,” he managed to get out, sounding as best he could like a man not on the brink of coming apart, and forced to squeeze his eyes closed when her moan around his cock sent vibrations through him to the very base of his spine.  The torturous swing of the weights be damned, Hawke’s thighs flexed together, clamping down on the rope between them as her hips thrust sinuously back and forth, amplifying the friction of the knots against her most tender parts.

It didn’t take long for her to unravel, keening around the length of his shaft.  He came across her tongue with a strangled shout of satisfaction, withdrawing before he was fully soft to wipe the head of his cock messily across her lips.  His seed glistened wetly in the firelight and he shuddered, excited almost to hardness again at the sight of it nearly glowing on her skin.

She was panting and flushed, the weights on her nipples ignored as her body bowed forward, seeking relief from the rope between her legs.  She would be tender and sensitive – if the sigh of relief that crossed her lips when she felt his hand move to the knots at her back was any indication, almost unbearably so – which was exactly as he desired.  It wasn’t as though he was a cruel man, he reasoned, peeling her free of the dig of the rope as gently as he could.  It’s just that he was thorough.

And maybe a little bit cruel.  A little.

Her arms shifted in their bindings as though she expected him to set her fully free, which prompted a shake of the head that she couldn’t see, still blindfolded as she was.  Instead he gagged her roughly, evoking a squeal of surprise and dismay as the rope he had used to bind her sex was folded and wound into a hard ball of knots that sat between her teeth and fastened at the nape of her neck.  She struggled momentarily as though she would pull free, but the forgotten weights on her nipples soon calmed her, bouncing painfully with each violent movement until she stilled, accepting the gag between her teeth. It would smell and taste of her, and he tied it tighter than was strictly necessary in punishment for her resistance, evoking a series of whimpers from her while her jaw worked and her tongue pushed, testing the restraint until she was satisfied that she could not get free.

Surrender was almost a visible mantle settling across her shoulders as she centered herself and began to relax, settling her rear on her heels and shifting her shoulders gently to straighten her back, now able to move and adjust her position without the torture of knotted rope grinding between her legs.  He slid a foot between her knees, urging them apart until she was kneeling with legs spread, the swollen pink of her cunt on display.  He could smell her, the heady aroma of her arousal banishing any reluctance from his cock and causing him to swell to full hardness once more, and he could not help but to draw his fingertips lightly along bare-shaven lips, dampened at the slightest touch.

“You’re so wet, my little whore,” he intoned, the great affection in his words undercutting the harsh language.  “So ready for what comes next.”

As though she would have any chance at guessing what that would be.  Likely she thought he would fuck her; rarely did they enact these scenes together that he did not.  Still, it was obvious that she was unprepared for the feeling of cold metal against her, the smooth slide of the phallus shaped device in his hand sliding its facsimile of a head against her swollen lips.  He had to angle his hand to seat it fully inside her, its shape curved and cunningly crafted to rub against that spot inside that would leave her mindless, more effective than even the most vigorous of thrusts in making her fall to pieces.  She stirred, only beginning to guess his intent when the thin arm that extended from the base of the device made contact with her skin, the small nubbled ball at the end settling directly atop her clit as he flattened his hand against her, holding the metal toy deep within.  He felt the muscles of her delectable ass flex as she rocked against him, the strong muscles within clenching around the intruder to the tune of an approving moan, arousal blushing again across the pale skin of her neck and shoulders.

He let her enjoy it, guiding her to lie back on her folded arms with the utmost gentleness until she was stretched out upon the rug.  Her knees started to bend, assuming that he would use the toy within her to fuck her to completion, and yelped in surprise when the flat of his palm came down hard on the inside of her thigh.  Stilling, she laid flat upon the floor until she felt the familiar friction of rope across her thighs, lifting her head as though she would watch him through the blindfold.

Ignoring her for the moment, he wound a length of red rope around her upper thighs, wrapping securely and tying it off before moving down her body to repeat the restraint.  Bound above and below her knees and again at her ankles, her legs were fully secured by the simple and yet highly effective bondage, pressed tightly together by bands of wound red rope.  He gave her a moment to test her predicament, watching her shimmy her hips side to side and attempt to part her legs, an unladylike grunt of effort emerging behind the rope gag that made him chuckle despite himself.  She stopped when she heard him laugh, her brow furrowing in a frown above the blindfold.

As if she had any power to rebuke him – or any power, at this point, at all.  Coolly he reached to remove one of the clamps from her nipples, making her keen behind the gag as blood rushed back into the offended point, following suit with the other.  He left her to suffer only a few seconds, taking pity on her and soothing her tormented breasts with his fingers, giving in and allowing himself to dip his head down and take one into his mouth.  She sighed and shifted beneath him, trying to get comfortable where she lay atop her folded arms, and he pulled away, rolling her gently onto one side.

He couldn’t help but admire her form, the hard muscles in her legs, the dimples in her back right above the inverted heart shape of her ass.  He touched her there, his hands itching to turn the skin of her rear pink with the imprint of his palm, but he only caressed, squeezing the pale globes leisurely as she shifted around on the floor, craning her head toward him.

With the brush of a finger and a subtle push of his magic, he sent a tendril of electric energy into the toy lodged deep within her.

The look on her face was priceless.

So was the orgasm that ripped through her body.  She screamed into the gag, toes curling, body arching, head thrown back as her hips pumped against the air, riding out the throes of her climax and coming back down to the floor, panting and shivering.  If she thought that the torment of the vibrations would fade after the first initial shock, however, she was wrong.

The alloy of the device had proved excellent in its conductivity and storage of magical energy.  The discovery of this fact was met with the sweetest whimpers and pleading from behind her gag, her sounds alone driving him to shudder and take his cock in hand.  The phallus within her would continue to shiver at the same intensity for nearly an hour, and it was a small thing for him to continue to charge it at will.

Unending torment.  Stimulation without pause or mercy, the device deaf to the sounds of her pleasure and even more so to the begging tone that soon suffused her muffled voice when she began the ascent to another wracking climax.

He had intended to keep her thus for a matter of hours, the whole evening in fact, though watching her expressive face and the way her body writhed and thrashed on the carpeted floor, it became quickly clear that neither of them would be able to hold out that long.  His cock had swollen again to almost painful hardness and as much as he reveled in her helpless torment, his absolute power over her pleasure and circumstance, he did recognize that there were limits.

That did not mean, however, that he was not prepared to push them.  He withdrew across the room to the chair he had occupied at the beginning of the evening, shedding his trousers and splaying his legs, slouching comfortably as he took his cock in hand.  He stroked himself, dancing on the threat of completion, as he watched her struggle on the floor.  Her movement was endless, hips shifting, breasts bouncing as she flipped herself onto her back and then to her side again, seeking at first to maximize the stimulation but shortly to try and escape it, bringing herself up almost onto her knees and then dropping back down to her belly again when she realized it was to no avail.  He had bound her so completely, her legs held flush together, arms made useless, that there was no escape, no option but to endure.

Hawke, he knew, was very good at enduring.  Better than him, even, who could boast Grey Warden stamina.  It was that alone that kept him from spilling his seed into his hand, that and the wanton hedonism he’d cultivated during so many years in the Circle tower, finding solace in any manner he could.  The light movement of his hand on his cock was never ceasing though he forced himself to relax, to revel completely in the sounds that tore themselves from her throat, the way sweat made her pale skin brilliant in the light, the way she would shatter and fall listless for a moment, only to curse and moan behind her gag and begin to writhe once more.

By the time the candles had burned down nearly a mark and the lubricating oil on his cock had turned almost tacky with friction, he decided that he at least had had enough.  Hawke was a quivering mess of sweat and trembling muscles, the implacable silver phallus robbing her of her strength to struggle with vigor.  She mewled weakly when he picked her up, tremoring faintly in his arms as he turned her face down over a nearby footstool.  Her thighs were flooded, a stolen touch between them coming back slick, and revealing that the intensity of the magic-induced shivers had begun to fade though still they churned on stubbornly, not yet run down completely.  He left it in place for the time being, much to her disappointed whimpering, and instead smoothed the hair back gently from her face and neck, soothing her rug-roughened skin with his touch as he checked the integrity of her restraints and the state of her limbs beneath them.

Satisfied, he pushed her further forward until the tops of her thighs were flush against one side of the stool and her breasts no longer flattened against its plushly padded top but hung freely over the other side.  In this position he could see a hint of the silver base of the device thrumming away within her, the arm connecting it to the ball that tortured her clit nearly disappearing between the swollen lips of her sex.

That it provoked an electric response within him – well, that was probably to be expected.  Hawke shrieked as the toy once again buzzed fully to life, thrashing under his restraining hand on the back of her neck and prompting him again to ruthlessness.  There was little chance she would escape him, and he took his time in securing her further, replacing the clamps on her nipples and tying them, rather than weighting them, off to one of the front legs of the footstool.

That induced no shortage of cursing from behind the gag, her voice snarling from behind the impediment of rope, and so he held her head back, using a stray piece of rope to secure the back of her gag to the restraints on her arms, forcing her to keep her back arched to avoid the rope cutting painfully into the sides of her mouth.

If such a position forced her also to pull on her own clamped nipples – well.  Cursing ones’ master was simply impolite.

Having seen to Hawke’s comfort, and having assured himself that no real or lasting harm could come to her, he turned his attention to the crux of his planning and his real goal of the evening – the smooth curve of Hawke’s upturned ass.

It wasn’t unexplored territory, not exactly, but he had taken her here only once before.  During a rougher game, an impromptu one, she had taunted him into it, and much to his chagrin he’d given in to her demands without what he considered the proper time and attention given to preparing her.  Hawke sometimes bucked against her own limits too violently, and he feared that she had come away from the encounter without the proper appreciation for all of the pleasures the act could offer.

Now, well, she would have no choice but to allow him to be as thorough as he pleased.

Her body shivered, hands clenching to fists against what he could only assume was another rolling climax, the soft moaning sounds and the jerking of her hips against the padded top of the footstool making it unclear if she even noticed at first that his hands had sought her ass, parting the pale, rounded cheeks with his thumbs to expose what lay within.

He let out a slow breath, a cool stream of air blowing across her overheated skin, which did get her attention. She stilled for a brief moment, only to moan deeply when he flicked his tongue against her nether lips, tracing the outline of the metal device where it sat against her skin, gone hot with the heat of her body.  He reveled in the taste of her, the slickness of her on his lips, and took his time, lingering there longer than he meant to before tonguing his way upward along the cleft of her body and toward the tight pucker of her ass.

When he laved her there she shrieked, bound feet coming up as her legs curled by reflex.  He pushed them back down again, trapped them against the floor with his shin lest she accidentally kick him anywhere untoward, not ceasing for a moment in his exploration of this most intimate part of her with all the nimble skill of his tongue.  Before long she was rocking back against him in a movement that must have strained the clamps on her nipples to their utmost, moaning deep in her throat as he swirled and darted his tongue against her, daring to breach the tight perimeter and delve inside.

For such a hard woman in such a hard line of work, she was terribly sensitive and broke easily under his ministrations, keening out his name behind her gag.  Pleased, he called slickness to his fingers with a simple spell, spreading the excess along his cock before supplementing his tongue with a finger. 

She was all heat inside, unbelievably tight, and his cock spasmed with remembered pleasure, recalling the sensation of being buried balls deep inside her body as she scratched and bit, pinned beneath him.  It was all he could do to be gentle, working a single long digit inside her with infinite patience and control until she was ready to accept a second.  He scissored his fingers within her, each stretching movement making her groan, until he was able to add a third.  There he simply left them, seated deeply within her, as he curled his thumb downward to press against the protruding base of the phallus, pumping it shallowly within her until she broke, wetness flooding his fingers.

Feeling as though he’d punished her enough, he withdrew from her gently and set about loosing the punishing tie that held her head arched back; she whimpered her gratitude, lying almost limply across the padded surface of the footstool as he pulled himself up behind her, positioning the head of his cock against the entrance to her body.

He lay across her back, hand reaching to twine itself in her hair and pull her head up again, arching her backward until his mouth was at her ear and the slack in the twine dangling from the clamps on her nipples was pulled taut.

“Are you ready for me, my love?”

Hawke moaned her assent, working her hips back against him to the limited extent she could.  It was enough that the head of his cock, so pressed, began to slide into her.  Had she the ability to move further, she could have swallowed him whole.

“Ask me,” he demanded harshly, one hand tightening on her hip.  “Beg me.”

Hawke could beg prettily when she wanted to, to no less effect garbled by the gag between her teeth.  He began the slow, tortuous slide within her to the music of her pleading, groaning at the dark heat of her as he released her hair in favor of gripping her hips.  Forward and backward and then forward again, he felt her stretch around him, spreading the globes of her ass so that he could watch himself split her in two.  It was not until he was seated all of the way inside her that he allowed himself to make more than shallow, gentle thrusts.

Out and then back in, from base to tip, he fucked her.  She felt incredible, sounded, tasted incredible, and it was with some regret that he knew he would not be able to last as long as he had hoped, would not be able to fuck her into complacence and soreness – though he rather thought that insidious little toy had done much of the work for him.  She felt uncommonly soft everywhere he ran his hands, slick and mewling, utterly helpless, submitting to his need and desire.

He let her shatter one more time before he began to fuck her in earnest, grasping the front of the footstool to either side of her body for leverage, keeping the sturdy piece of furniture from being pushed across the floor by the weight of her body and the heaviness of his thrusts.  She wailed, head thrown back of her own accord, body arched as he bottomed out within her again and again, chasing his own fulfillment now, far past the point of his own control to do more than hope that he had adequately prepared her this time, that the sounds she made were those of pleasure and not at all those of pain.

For a moment everything went blinding white, and with a snap, a jerk, and a shudder of his hips, he spilled himself inside her.

When he came back to himself, he lay flush across Hawke’s body, his chest pressed to her back, still buried within her. He could feel the muted vibrations of the silver phallus against his skin where his hips pressed hers and realized they had almost run down again, though Hawke no longer seemed so tortured by them, idly stroking his side where it lay against one of her bound hands.  The blindfold had slipped somewhat, as had the clamps he’d applied to her nipples – which he regretted immediately, imagining the force to pull them off of her to be more pain than he had intended to cause during this encounter – and she had curled herself around somewhat to be able to look at him.  Meeting her eyes for the first time in many hours, he was almost afraid to move even so much as to pull himself out of her, worried as he always was that he had crossed too many boundaries, delved too deeply into his own desires.

She grinned and he nearly collapsed, hiding the sudden spike of emotion and the accompanying lump in his throat against her back as he kissed her flushed skin and slowly eased himself from her body.  She made a sound of discomfort but upon examination seemed no worse for wear, though he could only imagine she was all too ready to be free of the silver intruder that still buzzed faintly within her.  He made it his first priority, unlacing the bonds on her legs and caressing over each mark and impression on her skin until he could fully part her legs and retrieve his – wonderfully effective – instrument of torture.  She sighed audibly with relief when it slipped free, her cunt all but pulsing in his hand, dripping with arousal and many, many completions.  Still, he could not help himself and reached to slide merely a fingertip across the swollen knot of nerves hidden between pouting lips with the utmost tenderness, bringing her to one last gentle climax before reaching to free her completely and take her into his arms.

She let him hold her, seeming to have neither the strength nor the inclination to operate her own limbs for a very long time, other than to nestle her head against his shoulder, idly toying with the ends of the sparse blond hair that sprinkled his chest.

“Was that alright?” he dared to ask finally, prefacing the question with a series of light kisses along the side of her face where the marks from her rope gag were already beginning to fade.

Hawke laughed, unflappable despite his fears. “I am impressed, as always, with the innovative ways you mages can apply magic to sex.  If we could bottle this stuff, we would make millions.”

Anders pretended to think about it.  “True,” he concurred, giving her a faint squeeze. “But then you’d have to explain to Varric the source of your brand new revenue stream.”

She made a face.  “Point taken.  He has far too much source material as it is.”

Hawke stretched and he let her, admiring as always the lithe strength in her body, and stirred almost to possessiveness by the marks each red rope had left upon her skin.  They would fade by morning, surely, but for now they were a testament to her trust in him, a sign that – even if only for the moment – she was completely his.

The stayed that way for some time, until the fire had burned down to smoldering embers and the most ambitious of birds had begun to call their pre-pre-dawn alerts in the darkness.  Hawke settled comfortably against him, clothed in the wind of his long arms and his long hair as his head lay groggily on her shoulder, on the edge of sleep when she broke the silence with an intimate whisper.

“You know what would be awesome right now?”

“Hmm?  What’s that?”

“A sandwich.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote something! For the first time! In like a year!
> 
> LET THE ALL THE MABARIS IN THE LAND REJOICE!
> 
> Go figure that the first thing 'back in the saddle' would be something super smutty with a pairing I almost never write :)
> 
> I'd forgotten how much I really enjoy these characters and this world. I'm hoping to jump back into the swing of things (maybe *gasp* that long awaited Part II of Undone that I've been wanting to write since... Part I of Undone?), and will try and keep up with comments and what not.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy!


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